Echoes of Scars and the Unbeaten Road
by colormyheartred
Summary: Killian Jones is tall, dark, and mysterious. He rides a motorcycle, smokes, and is covered in tattoos. Emma Swan, guarded by armor of her own design, moves into town to start new. It might take a miracle for these two broken people to find home again. (cs modern au)


The first time she sees him, she's sitting alone at Granny's Diner nursing her cup of hot chocolate while her finger trails along the cracked edge of the old tabletop, finding imperfections in the ridges.

She looks up when the bell tinkles, by reflex, and immediately she feels as if staring is too much, as if she keeps it up something might happen to her, but she can't take her eyes away.

He's dressed in all black leather, and his hair is a mess, shoved to one side of his head. He has an earring in his right ear and a heavy necklace around his neck. His cheeks are covered in dark scruff, untamed for the sake of style. He doesn't smile and she doubts he even could.

He's handsome, though, neck tattoo and all.

He takes a step toward the counter and his voice is so low that she barely hears it when he places his order.

Granny hands him a bag and a pre-prepared cup, and then he's gone, walking back out the front door without so much a second glance around the place.

When Ruby, the waitress, returns to the table with Emma's check a moment later, she pulls on a smile, setting the check down. "Well, welcome to Storybrooke. Home of the tall, dark, and mysterious."

Emma snorts and raises an eyebrow. "Who is he?"

"Killian Jones," Ruby provides, a twinkle in her eyes. "He's lived here for five years and no one knows anything about him. He doesn't have any friends, except probably Granny. But that's only because he orders his breakfast here everyday."

Biting on her lip in curiosity, Emma hums, "Interesting."

"Yeah. And the weird thing is, he's like, super hot, and trust me, I've tried- but he's, like, gay or something because he won't go out with me."

Emma shakes her head, smiling a little as she sets her cash down on the table. "Well, maybe some mysteries are better left unsolved."

After all, she has her own past she'd rather forget.

She's here to start over. She was only able to get a job at the sheriff's station because of her connection with the sheriff. By chance, his wife was in the foster system with her as kids and they became relatively close, close enough that when trouble came Emma's way, she was able to contact her for help.

Emma had waited, of course, until Mary Margaret had found out about Emma's predicament before admitting that she needed help. That's the only way she would have ever done it. Emma is far too proud to admit that she's broken, even now.

/

"This is your desk," David tells her, gesturing broadly to the desk in the middle of the bullpen. "Sorry about these junky computers. We don't have a huge budget and the state sometimes forgets we're here."

Emma examines the computer that seems to have come straight out of the 1990s and shrugs, shaking her head. "I'm sure I'll be able to deal with it."

David nods in agreement. He takes a breath and glances around the area. "Well, I guess that does it for the tour." He lifts a star shaped badge from the desk and holds it out for her. "Congratulations, Deputy. It's a pleasure to finally have you."

Emma holds his gaze for a moment before she takes the badge from him. David grins as Emma looks down to pin it to her belt.

"And it's your lucky day. Apparently one of the town drunks got a little aggressive last night and caused a scene down at The Jolly Flower Shop."

Emma takes a steadying breath, looking up at him again. "I thought you said Storybrooke was an easy town with no trouble."

David tilts his head to the side. "Well, every town has it's problems."

Emma rolls her eyes and gives him a halfhearted grin. "Okay. Let's go."

/

The Jolly Flower Shop isn't too far from the sheriff's station. When they arrive, Emma's initial impression is that it's quaint and special.

There are vibrant, happy flowers in pots outside of the door and the big glass window. The window, however, has been shattered, glass shards on the ground both outside and inside of the building.

David guides them inside and Emma immediately looks around, enjoying the flowers in all of their various shapes, colors, and sizes.

"Sheriff? Is that you?" a foreign voice calls.

It's British in origin, a light sound that warms Emma's chest. She swivels on her heel to find the source of the voice exiting the back room with a dustpan and broom in his hands.

To her complete and utter shock, it's the mystery man from the diner. Emma hides her confusion and instead just tries to comprehend _how_ such a dark looking individual could own a flower shop as quaint as this one.

David, when she looks at him, has a hard look on his face. Clearly, he doesn't enjoy the company of the man.

"I brought my new deputy, if that's okay." David says.

The man just hums. There's silence for a moment and Emma looks back at the owner of the shop, finding his attention on her.

He's much closer than he was earlier. Now, she can see age in his features. His eyes shine blue, but they're punctured by dark circles under them, and he has a scar on his cheek. His jawline is sharp, locking in place as she stares at him.

He tilts his head toward the window. "It was Leroy."

"How do you know?"

Even though David is the one that asked the question, Killian Jones stares at her. "Security footage." He pauses, still staring at her, and then glances over at David before heading toward the window. She probably never would have noticed that she'd started holding her breath if it weren't for the fact that she releases it. "I invested."

The way he says the words makes Emma think he's had problems with his storefront before. That David is probably the one that made him get the cameras.

David sighs. "Well, we should still get a look at it. For evidence."

Killian Jones sets the dustpan down on the ground and sweeps the glass shards into it. "It's in the back room."

Emma glances over at her new boss and he meets her eyes before tipping his head to the back room.

As soon as the door closes, David sighs heavily. "He's nothing but trouble."

"Who?"

David gives her a look as he locates the security feed. "Killian Jones. He comes into town five years ago on his motorcycle and takes up this flower shop after it's owner passes a few weeks later. I've put him behind bars a handful of times for public indecency and vandalism of private property. He used to get drunk and go looking for fights to pick too."

As he speaks, David runs through the footage from the night prior and nods. "But that was years ago and sometimes I doubt he's changed at all."

Looking around the area, she finds it relatively clean. There are shelves back here with soil and vases. There are boxes and buckets and mounds of ribbon. On the desk, there are some scissors and some other appliances. There are label makers and markers. All the makings of an operational business.

She doesn't spy anything personal- nothing that could tell her anything about Killian Jones' past, and even though she has a feeling about him, she can't help but be curious.

Emma looks down at the screen and finds an obviously drunken man, one that isn't Killian Jones, taking a brick to the window.

"Why did he do that?" she asks, watching as the perpetrator looks around wildly, then drops the weapon, and runs down the street.

David gives her a look. "Why do most drunk people do what they do? They're drunk." He sighs. "Listen, Leroy does this. It's his thing."

"You're telling me this is normal and you don't think it's a big deal."

"I'm telling you that Leroy is the town drunk and it's expected behavior." David says. "And… Jones isn't exactly the town favorite."

Emma gives him a look. "So because of your history with him you're going to treat him like the town pariah?"

David looks confused. "What?"

The door to the back room opens up and Emma turns to find Killian Jones enter, setting the broom and dustpan on a hook on the wall.

"Do you want to press charges?" she asks.

The owner of the shop turns to her and for some reason, she finds something different about him.

"No. I'll pay for it."

Emma has to bite on her tongue in order to keep herself in check. She nods. "Okay."

"Definitely Leroy," David says. "We'll go speak with him."

David and Killian Jones stare at one another for a few moments and Emma swears she could slice the tension with a knife. She meets Jones' gaze when David breaks away, heading out into the main shop.

"Not that it'll do anything," David mutters on his way out.

Emma feels sorry for him, but she doesn't exactly want to become friends with him. Her past was the epitome of _him_ : motorcycles and leather and tattoos. She came here to get away from that.

But there's something different about him. He's standing here across from here looking less angry and more worn, the light faded from his eyes.

He turns his head to avert his gaze, looking instead at a potted orchid on the shelf behind her. She catches a glimpse of his neck tattoo- an anchor, she thinks- and when he reaches around her, she catches a smell of him. It's far from what she'd thought he'd smell like, but exactly what she'd thought at the same time.

Leather and cigarettes, but also cinnamon and soft cologne.

He turns back to her, shifting forward with the pink orchid in his hands. She can see the light return, if only a little, as his fingers press against the flower. He seems like he's in his own world, far away from her, but then he looks into her eyes.

"I saw you come into town last night. I'm surprised you're already at work." he says, his accent warm to her ears, warm and kind.

Emma shrugs. "I don't like to sit still."

A hint of a smile finally fills his lips. "Aye. I suppose I'm the same way." He extends his hand for her to shake. "Killian Jones,"

She slides her hand into his and gives it a squeeze, unable to feel anything but the calloused and worn grooves of it. "Swan. Emma Swan."

His smile spreads, if only a millimeter more, and he nods. "Good to meet you, Swan. Welcome to Storybrooke."

She watches him take the orchid out of the back room and into the main shop and ends up feeling confused and slightly jarred as she heads out to find David again.

/

Mary Margaret is far too sweet and kind. She wants to talk and drink hot chocolate and exchange stories about their days when Emma and David return from work to the loft apartment.

Emma just wants to hold herself at a distance from everyone, so she does. She heads up to her part of the loft, a small room with all two of her boxes unpacked already. She collapses onto the bed and holds her hands over her middle, letting out a heavy breath.

Moving to Storybrooke was supposed to be her easy fix. She was supposed to be able to come here and get away from everything in her past, to start over, fresh, and find herself again.

She's already resolved to not talking or interacting with Killian Jones, unless it's necessary for work.

But that didn't stop her from looking at his record earlier today in the office.

Once upon a time, he'd been a bad boy, put in jail a couple of times for a few petty crimes and bailed out soon thereafter. His mugshots were all smug looking, as if he were snarking back at David or the arresting officer as he was getting them taken.

Emma can still see the first line of his file when she closes her eyes to sleep, claiming that he'd been sent to juvie as a teenager for breaking and entering and theft.

Too much like her.

/

Emma sits in a booth at Granny's Diner with a plate of pancakes and a hot chocolate in a mug. Her attention is set on her phone as she tries to catch up on the news and emails, and she doesn't notice anything around her until there's a tinkle from the front door.

She looks up and she isn't surprised to find Killian enter, his eyes shifting around until he meets her gaze. A ghost of a smile fills his lips and he goes to the counter, getting his order from Granny, and Emma looks away, back down at her phone, but she's interrupted when in her peripheral she catches movement.

Emma looks up slowly, meeting Killian's eyes as he stands by the head of her table.

"How are you settling in?" he asks.

"Okay." She shrugs. "Are you getting your window fixed?"

His reply comes with a nod. "Aye."

They stare at each other for a few seconds and Killian reaches up and scratches behind his ear. "If you… if you ever want a tour around town I know the place pretty well."

Emma knows exactly what he's doing, she isn't a fool. She lifts her eyebrows and laughs. "I'm kind of busy. Deputy and all."

He gives her a teasing look of understanding, pinching his brows in as a playful glow brightens his eyes. "Aye. Aye. I'm sure there's quite a bit to take care of. Never a dull moment, all that."

Emma hums. "Exactly."

He's smiling more, but it's soft. He nods. "Very well. I suppose I'll see you around, Deputy."

Killian keeps her gaze and she tries to keep herself from smiling, but fails, annoying her to no end as she drops her eyes to the plate before her.

/

After a few days of seeing Killian at Granny's at breakfast, she begins to consider ways of seeing him again.

It's kind of ridiculous, because she'd sworn an oath that she wouldn't do something like this. But part of her is too curious about the quiet man in black, whose smile is contagious but hardly ever worn.

It's probably why she finds herself walking to The Jolly Flower Shop after her shift ends. She almost regrets it as soon as she gets to the door, but then shakes her head, steeling herself as she enters, allowing the bell above her head to chime.

Emma glances around, not finding him anywhere, and almost considers backing up and leaving, pretending she never came by, but then she hears something in the back.

"I'll be right with you!"

She thinks of Mary Margaret as she stares at a display of flowers and approaches them, running her fingers over the petals as she considers buying them.

"Buttercups," his voice is low and right behind her, making her jump out of unpreparedness. "Good choice. Though, if you want something to last, I would go for the delphiniums. They're lovely."

Emma turns, taking a steadying breath, her eyebrows raised. "Delphiniums."

Killian steps to the side, pointing to a display. "Who are they for?"

"My friend," she says. "Well, I guess she's my roommate now. I just wanted to get her something to say thank you."

He hums. After a second of deliberation, he walks toward another display. "Lilies. I think they say 'thank you' quite well, don't you?"

Emma stares at him more than she does the flowers and nods. "Yeah."

"I can take them to your address for you, if you'd like." He says as he takes the flowers to the register.

She watches him, fascinated by how gentle he is with the flowers, and when he looks at her, she doesn't know why.

"Do you want me to take them or would you rather?"

Emma opens her mouth and closes it. "I can take it."

He rings her up and she pays him in silence. She takes the flowers and they stare at each other again.

"Thanks," she says.

"You're welcome." Emma turns to go and takes a few steps before he speaks again, "I was serious, before, if you want a tour."

She turns around, continuing to walk, and pulls her lip between her teeth. "I'm pretty sure I've seen all of the sights during my route."

He opens his mouth and closes it. "Right. Well. I've got a motorbike if you're ever interested in escaping this place."

Emma stops at the door and considers him for a second before nodding. "Okay."

/

"Oh, Emma, they're lovely," Mary Margaret sighs, smelling her flowers. "Thank you so much. I'll put them on the dinner table."

David gives her a look from the kitchen. "You went to The Jolly Flower Shop?"

Emma sighs. "What? I wanted to say thank you."

David shakes his head, clearly disappointed and holding back his anger. "I told you to stay away from him."

"David, I'm sure Emma can hold her own," Mary Margaret says. "And it's not like Killian Jones is walking around town looking for trouble anymore."

"I don't trust him," David says. "How do you go from constantly in my holding cells to staying completely clean?"

Emma tilts her head to the side. "I did it."

"You're different," David says immediately. "You didn't deserve to be sent to prison. He did."

Mary Margaret nods in agreement. She settles her hands on her hips. "Emma, I do have to agree with David. He has a dark past. I thought you wanted to stay away from guys like that."

"I do," Emma insists. "That's why I came here."

"Then stay away from Killian and you'll be fine," David says, sounding more like a father than a friend.

Emma sighs. "Okay. Fine."

/

She's sitting at her desk at the sheriff's station when she sees him for the first time in three days. She's avoided Granny's in lieu of having breakfast at the loft with Mary Margaret and David, which she presumes started because they knew about her encounters with Killian Jones in the mornings.

He comes into the station with a dark look on his face, anger practically oozing out of his pores.

"Nolan! What the hell do you think you're doing, _fining_ me for parking _my_ bike outside of _my_ shop?"

Emma's caught off guard by the tone in his voice, the way his accent clips and is almost unintelligible. He storms into David's office, but David isn't here. He went on his lunch break later than usual to spend it with Mary Margaret.

Emma pushes back from her desk and sighs, stepping toward David's office with a raised eyebrow. "David's at lunch. Can I help you?"

Killian exits the office and as soon as he sees her, he calms down, his eyes softening. He swallows, his eyes shifting to the floor and the walls before finding hers again as he breathes in deep.

"There isn't anything you can do," he tells her. "I need to speak with the sheriff."

Emma nods. "Okay. I'll let him know you came by."

He stares at her, seeming hurt, and shakes his head. "He's had his head up his arse since he became sheriff. He doesn't deserve it if he's not going to treat everyone fairly. And you can tell him I said that."

Killian turns around, heading to the door without any other words, and Emma doesn't know what to do with herself, so she heads back to her desk until David returns fifteen minutes later.

"Emma, I'm back."

She gets up and heads to his office, meeting him there just in time to see him sit down. "Hey. So, Killian Jones came by. He was kind of pissed."

David shakes his head as he shifts through some papers on his desk, his brow knitted in concentration. "I can't imagine why. He's always trying to pick fights with me."

Emma folds her arms to her chest and leans against the doorframe of his office. "He said you fined him for parking his bike in front of his store?"

After a second, David looks up at her. "Yeah. That rings a bell."

Emma gives him a look. "Why do you hate him so much?"

"Because he's no good!" David insists.

"I went over his record. He hasn't been in for five years. I'm pretty sure that makes you the one up to no good here."

He sighs. "Emma, you don't know him. I do."

Emma rolls her eyes, stepping away from the doorframe, her arms falling to her sides. She heads back into the bullpen and grabs her keys and jacket, then goes to the front door.

"Where are you going?"

Emma smartly replies, "To prove you wrong."

/

When Emma enters the flower shop, she finds Killian grooming an orchid on the counter, his attention lazer fixed.

"If you've come to apologize, I don't want to hear it," he grumbles.

Emma nods. "I came for something else, actually."

Killian looks up and narrows his eyes, "Swan."

"You still offering that ride?" she asks.

A grin spreads on his face, wider than anything, and he sets down his tool before wiping his hands on a rag, nodding. "Aye. Let me just close up."

Emma waits for him to do just that and when he's finished, they silently head outside. Emma is still fuming because of David's behavior and she clenches her fists as Killian locks the shop up.

He guides her toward his bike, still parked belligerently in front of his shop, and as soon as he reaches it, he hands her his helmet.

"Safety first," he says, making her sigh.

She puts the helmet on over her head and snaps it into place.

Killian sits on his bike, then Emma slings her leg over it, settling in behind him easily. She doesn't know what to do with her arms, but she suddenly sees David marching out of the sheriff's station and her first instinct is to wrap them around Killian's middle to make him angrier.

"Don't be afraid to hold on tight, Swan," Killian says as he revs up the engine.

It makes her roll her eyes, but when they start moving forward, she ends up tightening her hold on his waist, her chin digging into the leather of his jacket, overwhelming her with his scent.

Emma leans back a little when she feels relatively balanced and as they pass by David, she makes sure to give him a look.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

Killian glances over his shoulder slightly. "I think I know a place you haven't been yet."

Emma isn't sure she's smiled this wide in a long time and it makes her more than attentive to the butterflies in her belly.

/

He takes her through town and out into the secluded part of town, where, he's right, she hasn't been before.

There are trees here, tall ones that sway with the spring breeze, and when the motorcycle comes to a stop, Emma feels breathless. It's been awhile since she's ridden on the back of a motorcycle and it's every bit as exhilarating as she remembers.

The bike rumbles below them as Killian brings it to a stop and he turns it off, his feet planted on the forest ground.

Emma climbs off first, sighing as she removes the helmet. Killian takes the helmet from her when he gets off of his vehicle and he lifts an eyebrow, tilting his head to the forest around them.

"So? Have you seen this place before?"

Emma shakes her head. "No. David told me about it, though."

Killian hums, nodding in understanding. "Storybrooke's a good quiet place. Not much to worry about."

She nods in agreement. "Yeah. I get that feeling."

There's a moment of silence, neither of them knowing what to do, and Emma feels that ache in her chest, a familiar pain she gets when she remembers her past, and it's enough for her to turn away.

She walks toward the structure the bike is parked beside, a well, and folds her arms on top of it as she looks down.

Killian joins her a few moments later, staring down at the water.

She listens to the wind in the trees and then speaks. "I ran away from people like you," she tells him. "I came here so I could start over."

"I'm not sure what you know about me," he says softly. "But if you think I'm a criminal, I've left that life behind me."

Emma looks at him. He's staring at her now, a pleading look in his eyes. "I wanted to prove David wrong," she tells him. "Tell me why you're not as bad as he thinks you are."

He searches her eyes and a wry smile lifts his lips. "It seems to me you've already got a fair idea."

She shakes her head. "Why do you keep to yourself? Why hide out in that flower shop?"

"Because it was my brother's," he says. "The shop belonged to him and when he passed, I took it up."

She frowns. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he shakes his head. "You didn't know him."

Killian leans forward, clasping his hands together over the well. He stares at them and sighs. "I hate flowers. I wanted to sail. Liam was the one that made me come to this town five years ago. Maybe I thought I could leave if I ever got over it and got back on my feet."

He suddenly snorts, taking one of his hands through his hair. "Bloody idiot I am."

Emma doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't speak. She stares at the water and her stomach churns uneasily.

"So, if you want to convince David I'm not as bad as I seem, I think you've got the information to do it. I'm just stuck here because I've got nothing to live for."

She tilts her head at him sadly. "That's not true."

He gives her a pitiful smile. "Isn't it?"

"No," she tells him. Her tongue burns with the weight of her life's story and she hesitates before she speaks up. "I was abandoned as a baby on the side of a freeway. I grew up in the foster system and never had a home. Talk about not having a purpose- try not having a family to call yours for your whole life. Then, when I found someone I thought loved me, he betrayed me and sent me to jail for something he did."

Tears burn at her eyes and she finds that she can't continue, so she turns away from the well and walks deeper into the forest, her arms folded to her chest.

Emma wipes at her tears when they come and swallows down the lump in her throat. She hasn't told anyone her story since Neal and, well, that went super well for her.

Killian finds her when she reaches the river. She stands at the edge of it, her toes narrowly avoiding the water.

When he comes to stand by her, he doesn't speak for a few moments.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," he says gently. "I know it wasn't easy."

Emma manages a smile when she looks at him and he mirrors her.

"Maybe we could live for each other," he suggests. "So we have someone to lean on."

Emma laughs through her nose. "You want to be friends?"

His smile is soft and genuine. "Aye. If you want to be."

She nods. "Yeah. Okay."

/

Friendship comes easily for them, oddly enough.

Emma invites him to sit with her for breakfast and he smiles more, laughing sometimes when they start joking around. He walks with her back to the sheriff's station and they make plans to grab dinner sometimes.

They go on drives through town and beyond, the wind in her hair and his warmth more than enough to set her nerve endings ablaze. She laughs into his ear and he gets this incredibly _happy_ look on his face, as if he's never felt like this before.

Emma can relate.

One night he wants to show her his ship in the harbor and they grab Granny's To-Go and head out as the sun is setting.

His ship is relatively small, but it's the perfect size for him to use on day trips around the harbor, according to him.

"It's really quaint," she says, settling down on the deck.

Killian grins. "Aye."

"I like it," she tells him.

His smile spreads and his eyebrows lift higher. "Good. I'm glad."

Emma laughs. He hands her a grilled cheese and onion rings and she starts eating, staring out at the horizon as the sun falls toward it.

"So, is this something you do a lot?" she asks.

Killian shakes his head. "I don't remember the last time I did this, actually."

Emma hums, a familiar fuzz making her nearly nauseous with conflicting feelings.

When the sun falls away, Killian looks up at the night sky and points out the first stars. "When I was younger, Liam would try to teach me the constellations but I was a stubborn arse and I didn't listen."

Emma laughs. "So you can't tell me what they mean?"

He shrugs, looking back up at them. "Well, I remember one. I don't know… ah, I think that's it. Do you see that shape, there?"

He points in a specific direction and Emma nods. "Yeah."

"That is the Cygnus," he states on a sigh. Emma stares at it for a few beats, then down at him again, finding his gaze on her. "Means Swan."

She tilts her head at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Why do I feel like you're making that up to flirt with me?"

He gapes at her. "I wouldn't make something like that up, darling. I swear on my life I'm not."

Emma hums. "Okay. So if I look it up and the internet says it's not real, I want you to do something for me."

Killian arches an eyebrow. "What's that?"

She takes her teeth over her lower lip and sucks in a breath. "You give me your dessert."

He sighs. "Very well. And if I'm right? What do I get in return?"

Emma shrugs. "You decide."

He stares at her in contemplation. "Your dessert."

She laughs. "Okay. I guess dessert it is."

Emma pulls out her phone and after a moment of deliberation, she groans. "It means swan."

Killian cheers. "I told you. I wouldn't lie to you, Emma."

She nods, admiring the way he stares at her. He has his head tilted and he's smiling so sweetly that it's making her blush. His eyes memorize her face and his gaze ultimately falls to her lips before bouncing to her eyes again.

Emma takes a breath and leans in, determinedly grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket, pressing their lips together in a hot frenzy.

It's been a long time coming and it's definitely worth the wait.

He sighs into her, his hand settling into her hair as one of hers slides up into his. He lets her straddle his lap and time seems to not exist as they breathe each other in under the glow of the moon and stars, the water below them a gentle bobbing.

"That was-" he whispers, their noses bumping afterward.

Emma ruts her hips against his and shuts her eyes tight. "Yeah."

He kisses her again, softly, and she wonders if maybe coming to Storybrooke wasn't a mistake afterall.

/

When Emma returns from Killian's boat, it's well past midnight. She sighs as she leans back against the front door of the loft and closes her eyes.

They're kind of _together_ now and it's kind of overwhelming, but it feels right. He's not going to hurt her. If he was, he would've done it a long time ago.

"Emma, where were you?" David's voice makes her jump, turning to find him sitting up on the couch.

"David?" she whispers. "What the hell? Why are you waiting up for me like that? You're not my father."

David stands up and gives her a look. "Emma, you were gone for quite some time. Were you with him?"

She bites on her tongue and sucks in a deep breath, releasing it before she responds. "Yeah. So what if I was?"

He shakes his head. "I can't believe you keep talking to him, Emma. I'm telling you. Sooner or later he's going to show his true colors and you're going to get caught in the crossfire, just like you were with Neal."

Emma groans. "David, I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions, even if they're stupid ones."

Her friend frowns sadly. "I just don't want to see you hurt again, Emma."

"He's not going to hurt me," she insists. "He's different."

/

Killian's house is huge and she makes fun of him for it as soon as she has the chance to. He tells her that he inherited it from his brother Liam and that he'd inherited it from their parents, so it's not technically his fault that his house is so massive.

They spend a lot of time there when they decide that their friendship has turned into a relationship and she actually kind of loves it.

She discovers what Killian can be like when he's free from work and from feeling helpless, and she hopes she's showing him the same.

More of her time becomes saturated with him, wanting to spend her free time being with him, to hear some of his stories and learn about him as much as she can. She hasn't ever wanted to know someone more than she's wanted to know him.

They've been officially _together_ for two weeks. He knows her favorite hot beverage and he brings it to the station, texting her when he's outside because he doesn't want to have any unpleasant run-ins with David. She can't help but agree with him there.

Mary Margaret clearly can tell something's up. She always has this little knowing smile on her lips when Emma comes home late, if she comes home at all, and sometimes she asks if she's found someone, but Emma just shrugs it off, happy to live in a blissful bubble for a little while without letting her closest friends know that she's dating public enemy number one.

While it should be cause for stress, she finds that dancing around it and sneaking around town with Killian is actually kind of nice. He'll bring her on motorcycle rides and she'll kiss his ear and he'll squeeze her hands around his middle when they come to stops, igniting tenderness in her belly as she bites on her lip, burying her chin in his shoulder.

They leave the doors and windows open on warm nights after work and Killian leaves an acoustic playlist going inside while they head out onto the porch to sit on the swing together.

He has his leg draped off of the side, using his foot to swing them gently as he turns pages and Emma listens to his voice, glad that she's here. Glad that she's found him.

After a while, they just rest, his fingers combing through her hair and massaging her scalp.

He doesn't wear his leather when he's at home. He wears a tee shirt and sometimes a plaid button up that he leaves undone and jeans and he has anchors on his socks when he doesn't go barefoot. She discovers tattoos of his that she likes to draw lines over and he has stories for every single one.

As the sun begins to set and a cool breeze nips at Emma's nose, she snuggles closer as her stomach growls.

"Let's go inside," he murmurs. "We can make dinner."

Emma sighs. "Okay."

They head inside and Killian leads, grabbing ingredients from his pantry and fridge, setting them on the counter with a grin.

"What are we making?" she asks.

"I thought we could have spaghetti." He says with an arched eyebrow.

Emma hums, giggling when he bumps hips with her. He presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Alright," he says, clapping his hands together. "We'll need to start with the sauce."

There's a moment where she stares at him that she thinks she couldn't be happier, making dinner in the kitchen of his house, listening to music and talking about various styles of sauce, arguing about which is better while setting some beef on the stove to cook.

Emma is about to take a pot to the sink when there's a harsh knock at the door.

Killian sighs, looking up from the newly sizzling pan.

"I can get it." Emma tells him, already starting to go.

He nods and she wipes her hands on her jeans as she heads to the door. She's confused to find David standing there, and he looks equally as miffed.

"Emma?" he asks.

"David, what are you doing here?" she asks, lowering her voice to a hiss.

Her friend gives her a look. "Emma, I thought you were at Granny's. Mary Margaret has been worried about you."

Emma lifts an eyebrow. "You thought I was at Granny's? For the past two weeks?"

He nods. "I thought it was because of… our argument."

Emma sighs. "Oh. No." She glances over her shoulder and then steps outside, closing the door behind her. Killian doesn't need to hear any of this. "David, why are you here?"

"I thought you'd be here," he admits. "I needed to tell you about something. He's not telling you everything."

Emma furrows her brow, tilting her head when she gets the vibe from him that he's just saying shit again. "God, David, can you stop? Killian makes me happy. We're happy."

David's expression turns sorrowful and he hesitates. "Maybe you shouldn't find out then."

The door opens suddenly and David's attention shifts as Emma asks, feeling more fear than anything, "What shouldn't I find out?"

"Nolan," Killian says, his voice steady but angry.

David's jaw shifts. "Jones." He looks to Emma. "We can talk later tonight."

"No," she says. "Tell me right now. I'm sure whatever it is, Killian should be here to hear it."

David looks between them and lands on Emma, shaking his head. "He's married."

Emma turns to him, her heart caught in her throat, and she opens her mouth as she tries to process the information. "You're married."

Killian looks devastated, taking his hand through his hair. He gives David a hard look and shakes his head swiftly. "It's been over for _years_. Almost as soon as it started. I-"

She blinks and folds her arms to her chest.

"You lied to me," she says. "I came here to get away from that. I thought you were different. I thought you didn't lie to me."

He looks at her like he could probably start crying. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would come back from the grave."

Emma tilts her head at him. "If it was in the grave, it wouldn't make me out to be the bad guy."

She swallows and pushes past him to get inside where her things are.

Emma doesn't look at him when she leaves, and David frowns sadly, obviously wishing things didn't end like this.

"Emma," Killian pleads, his hand touching her arm. "Let me explain."

"No," she bites out, glaring at him. "I trusted you. How am I supposed to trust you now?"

"You haven't given me a chance," he sighs. "If you gave me a chance-"

She feels tears burning at her eyes as she stares at him and he stops talking, shaking his head at her.

"I ignored the signs," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "Because I thought you were different. But I guess you're not."

/

Feeling heartbroken and confused, Emma buries herself in work.

She avoids him, because what else is there for her to do? She can't go to him and hear him out. She's too proud to do that, because despite the few weeks they'd spent in a bubble, him being married somehow is enough to make her kind of hate him now.

Emma doesn't get much sleep, because instead of sleeping she lies awake hating herself over the fact that she could ever think that someone like Killian Jones could be different than Neal Cassidy. Patterns are hard to break and apparently moving to a new place to start over doesn't change that.

Even though there are probably two cases at the most per week, Emma pours everything she can into them, and into her patrol around town.

She tries to not be annoyed when Madame Mayor Regina Mills comes to the sheriff's station with a list of demands, her snarled lips enough to make anyone cringe even before she speaks.

There's going to be a town spring festival in the coming week, so that gives Emma plenty to do, with permits and ensuring shop owners are aware of the event. It's supposed to be one of Storybrooke's biggest weekends, something that draws visitors from near and far, so Emma has to prepare a blockade and a route for the officers to ensure safety.

Thankfully, with the plans for the spring festival consuming her every thought, she doesn't think too much on Killian Jones.

Despite the fact that she knows he's going to have a booth with his flowers on display and that the entire festival is going to basically be catered around it, she manages to avoid him.

Until the day of the spring festival, that is.

Mary Margaret is dressed in a cute sundress and she has a floppy hat atop her head as she leaves the loft with Emma and David that morning.

"I love the spring festival," she says happily. "There's always so much to do and see."

David smiles in agreement. "Emma, do you want to take off today? So you can experience it for yourself?"

Emma shakes her head. "Nope. I'm good. I'll just do my job. You guys have fun."

Mary Margaret frowns. "Emma. If this is about Killian-"

"Mary Margaret, I told you I don't want to talk about it." Emma says, forcing herself to keep moving down the steps toward the front door of the apartment building.

The petite brunette sighs. "It's not good to keep avoiding him."

"Well, you heard David," Emma says, glancing over her shoulder. "He's _trouble_ and I just pretended I couldn't see it coming."

The sheriff looks upset and shakes his head. "Emma, you shouldn't let what happened between us dictate your relationship with Killian."

"Whose side are you on?" Emma asks. "First you don't want me near him and now you think I should go running back to him?"

"I feel bad," he snaps back. "You came here to start over and now you're miserable and it's my fault."

Emma stares at David for a few seconds. Mary Margaret sets her hand on Emma's arm. "Emma, I think you should stop hiding and at least talk to him. You'll never get closure if you don't talk to him."

A moment passes before Emma nods. "Okay."

/

The flower stand for The Jolly Flower Shop is huge and there are tons of people gathered around it, so Emma finds herself just walking the perimeter of the festival for hours waiting for it to clear out enough for her to even find Killian in the midst of it.

The sun is setting when she gets that chance. Soon, there will be fireworks, and now that it's dark enough, the fair rides have started to glow bright. It smells like popcorn and fried food until she gets close enough to the flower stand, and instead of regret, she can smell the sweet perfume of his flowers.

Killian is moving things around, getting his plants back into his store by putting them in the back of a pickup truck, and she has her fingers caught on her belt loop as she steps up toward him.

He's not dressed in leather, probably because he would catch on fire in the heat generated by the sun on this abnormally warm spring day, instead wearing that red plaid she'd often commented on because she liked it so much. The one she'd stolen from his closet and wore one weekend without any qualms about her until he met her for dinner at Granny's and laughed, telling her it looked far better on her.

She bites on her lip and studies him as he silently performs the task at hand.

He's too handsome for his own good. The tattoo on his arm of a sparrow leading the way for a sword with Liam's name on it is clearer than ever and she can see the anchor on his neck as he turns back around, his bright blue eyes catching hers in the low glow of the streetlights.

He stares at her for a few seconds and then returns to his task, hauling a crate onto the back of the pickup.

"I'm sorry," Emma says, stepping up to him. "I'm sorry I walked away without letting you say anything."

Killian finishes his task and then turns to her, wiping his hands clean of dirt by clapping them against each other. He looks like he's been hurt, to no real surprise, and she feels it in the pressure beneath her breastbone.

"I signed the papers right after you walked away," he says, turning his attention to the ground. His brow pinches inward. "We were separated but I had a hard time letting go. She'd run off from her first husband to be with me and then she realized it was the same life she'd tried getting away from with me." Killian looks up at her again and he wears the truest, purest look on his face. "I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of her until I met you."

Emma frowns, dropping her shoulders. Her heart feels like it could probably leap straight out of her throat and she aches, because she didn't know he felt anything.

"Killian, we spent two weeks together."

Even as she says it, tears burn at her eyes, and she hates herself for it.

Killian nods. "It was enough."

They stand in silence and Emma hears the crowd down the street cheering as Mayor Mills announces the fireworks display. She averts her gaze to check, feeling uncertain with herself.

If she lets him have this, she might end up hurting like she did before.

"What do you want me to say?" she asks in a whisper, looking at him again.

Killian shakes his head. "You don't have to say anything." A tiny smile tugs at his lips. "But it'd be nice if we could be friends again."

She can't help but smile and nod in agreement. "Yeah."

The fireworks start to pop in the night sky and Emma's attention jerks toward them, not knowing what else she should do, and she watches the colors fill the sky, perfectly accentuating the way her heart feels in this moment.

Emma turns back to Killian a second later and discovers that he's standing close, his eyes on her instead of the sky above.

"I'm sorry," he tells her. "I lost your trust."

A pop and crash fills the air and Emma can see the light of it against Killian's face, warm and purple.

She never got this before, with Neal, and it's for that reason she knows he's different, that this relationship will always be different.

"I forgive you."

/

Emma meets Killian after work about a week after the festival and he has a particularly excited look on his face, making her wary, narrowing her eyes at him.

"What's going on?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Nothing. Picking you up from work." He lifts an eyebrow. "Would you like to go for a ride?"

The last time they went for a ride, they were _together_ , and she hesitates, because it's different now between them. They're friends but they were more once and it's difficult to draw the line sometimes.

She's already experienced that awkwardness enough without having to press her chest to his back and her arms around his middle.

"As friends," he says, giving her a teasing look.

She tilts her head a little. "You keep clarifying."

"Well, I have to, don't I?" he asks. It's not bitter, but it tastes that way.

Emma sucks in a breath. "Okay. Yeah. Let's go for a ride."

Sitting on the motorcycle is different, but it feels like home, and when she wraps her arms around him, he pauses, clearly not having anticipated the feeling either.

"Hold on tight, Swan,"

"I won't let go," she promises.

She thinks she can see a smile on his lips and she closes her eyes, pressing her cheek to his shoulder as they start to drive.

She pulls away to let the wind go through her hair and snuggles closer after a while, when the sun starts to fade and the stars start to come out in their place. It reminds her of nights stargazing as they drive through an open road, and she longs for it again.

Emma shifts behind him and presses her lips against his ear, "Can we stop?"

Killian complies with her request, pulling them off to the side of the open field. He puts the brake on when Emma climbs off, her gaze set on the sky above.

"Where's my constellation?" she asks playfully when he joins her.

He smiles a little, moving his eyes to search up above. He takes his hand to point, tracing the shape, and Emma suddenly gets an idea as she stares at his neck, where his anchor reminds him every day of his dream to sail.

When he looks at her she runs her teeth over her lip and extends her hand to take his. His calloused grip is comforting, despite the fact that everything between them is blurred.

Killian reaches up to scratch at his ear, his attention stuck on their joined hands.

"Do you know any other constellations?" she asks.

He pulls his lower lip into his mouth as he looks upward again. He clears his throat as he pulls his free hand to point.

"That shape there is the big dipper." Killian says, and Emma smiles softly. "And there's the little dipper."

As he continues to point, she doesn't look at the sky, she looks at him, and she wonders if he knows that she can see stars in his eyes, even when he's not studying them.

After a moment, he looks down at her again. "You're not listening."

She gives him a look. "I was listening."

"Really?" he asks, his eyebrows raised and his smile wide. "What was the last thing I said?"

Emma opens her mouth and hesitates for a moment too long and he laughs heartily. "I think this means I win, doesn't it?"

"We weren't competing," she says.

He hums. "That's what you think, but you don't know what I said, so-"

Emma takes her hand from his and uses it to smack his chest, making them both laugh.

"What do you want?" she asks.

Killian stares at her thoughtfully and a twinkle brightens his eyes. "A drink,"

Emma searches his eyes and considers him. "Okay. A drink."

/

One drink turns into two, which turns into three, and soon, she's giggling and Killian is kissing behind her ear as he whispers, "You should get a tattoo,"

She turns around to look at him in the dim lighting of the bar and his fingers fall to her hip, under the hem of her shirt. He traces a shape against it and his lips press against her ear.

"A little one, right here," he says, and she can see her constellation in his eyes when she looks at them, so maybe that's why she agrees.

And after it's finished and her skin is still red and raw, she finds she doesn't regret it at all.

He takes her home afterward, to the huge house of his, and she doesn't want to leave his side, so she goes to bed with him and just before she shuts her eyes, she hears his voice in her ear.

"Please don't leave this time."

/

She's hungover when she wakes up, immediately wincing and groaning as she buries her face into her pillow. She can smell something cooking, which makes her stomach growl, and she peels open her eyes, licking her lips when she realizes that she spent the night at Killian's.

Maybe drinking is a bad idea in general.

Her skin hurts from the ink on her skin and when she turns to see the bedside table, she discovers ointment for the swelling and some ibuprofen as well as a glass of water.

 _Swan,_

 _Making breakfast. Come down when you're ready._

 _xoxo_

 _Killian_

His note makes her smile as she slides upright. First she downs the ibuprofen and a hearty swallow of water. Then, she lifts her shirt to discover the ink on her hip.

It's her constellation, freckles of stars combined with lines to show the cygnus on her skin.

She has vague recollections from the night before, but getting this impressed on her skin is something she remembers quite clearly.

Emma uses the ointment before she gets up and she throws her hair up into a ponytail as she slips down the stairs, taking in a deep breath of whatever Killian has cooking for breakfast.

He's not looking at her when she finds him, instead turned away. He's wearing lighter colors, a white tee shirt and blue jeans, and if she were anyone else she would think he's going crazy, because Killian Jones doesn't wear white.

Emma swallows as she steps into the kitchen and leans her arms against the island. "Hey."

Killian turns to her and smiles brightly. "Morning, love." He gestures to a plate on the island in front of her. "Pancakes and bacon. I know how much you like them."

She smiles in thanks, grabbing the plate so she can take it to the table. As she sits and eats, Killian finishes up preparing his own plate and joins her.

They eat in silence for a little while and Emma takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry for crashing here. I didn't want Mary Margaret to wake up and have to deal with me on her couch."

Killian shakes his head. "It's fine."

She chews her breakfast and hesitates. Clearly, things are different now. She didn't intend to let herself go so much last night, but she did, and now she isn't sure where they stand.

"What are we doing?" she asks, setting her fork down.

"Having breakfast?"

"No," Emma shakes her head. "We're friends and then we're together and then we don't talk to each other for a few weeks and we were friends again but… what now? How do we do this now?"

Killian takes a soft breath and reaches out for her hand, holding it so gently in his. "I want nothing more than to win your heart, Emma." He searches her eyes. "And I will win it. But not until you're ready."

Emma stares at him. She takes her hand away from him and swallows. "I- I should go."

She stands up and she sees him grit his teeth, his fingers rolling into a fist on the table as his eyelids slide shut.

"Why are you running?" he asks.

Her feet stop as she heads for the living room where her shoes are. She takes a few breaths. "I'm not running."

"You are," he says. "You know me, Emma. You know I'm not like anyone in your past."

Emma turns around. He's standing now. "Maybe you are."

"Bloody hell, Emma, I'm not," he bites out. He steps up to her and shakes his head. "I'm not going to abandon you. I'm in this for the long haul." He pauses. "Have you ever thought that you aren't the only one who worries that in the morning, things will be different? I've been abandoned my whole life, but I'm willing to change that now because of you. I just want you. It's only ever been you for me."

She's stunned into silence, her eyes watery and her heart racing wildly within her chest. She presses her hand against his cheek and he leans his face into her palm by instinct.

His breath is shaky when he releases it and she uses her other hand to grab onto the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling his forehead down to hers.

"I'm sorry," It's all she can say, her voice trembling as her eyes close.

Emma kisses him for the first time in weeks and her heart feels heavy. She hopes he can feel the words she can't speak on her lips, hopes he understands that she forgives him for what happened between them, that she knows it will be better now.

He settles his hand on her hip and his thumb ghosts over the new ink lightly, reminding her of his lips on the spot behind her ear and the weight of his voice before she fell asleep.

He pours into their kiss, practically whispering words that shouldn't be spoken yet between them as his tongue coaxes against hers.

Their foreheads touch when it's over and Emma's hand goes from his hair down to find the one on her hip. She looks up at him as she takes it into hers.

As she studies him, she realizes that she was broken before, but with him she somehow isn't. It's scary, but it's true.

"Stay,"

"I'm here."


End file.
